


Looking to the Past, Looking Ahead

by BadLuckBlueEyes



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles just wants to help, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik doesn't know how to romance, Erik has Issues, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Poor Erik, deep conversations in a kitchen, two a.m. revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckBlueEyes/pseuds/BadLuckBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik knows that he loves Charles. But he saw what happened to men who loved other men in the camps and he doesn't know if he wants to love Charles. Angst ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking to the Past, Looking Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Based on the secret mutant prompt that asked for Erik struggling with the fact that he likes Charles because every fiber of his being tells him that he can't.

They had been at the mansion for two days. Everything had happened so fast, what with him finding and losing Shaw ( _again_ , some bitter part of his mind chastised him), going to Russia, and losing Darwin. The past weeks had been a blur of tragedy and action, and to say that Erik was confused would be a severe understatement. 

Because somehow, despite everything that had happened in the past weeks, Erik couldn’t think of a time when he was happier. Of course, there was his childhood, but that was a lifetime ago. He had been a different person then. Since the camps, since Shaw, his life had been predominantly miserable. And now he had friends, people he was starting to care for despite how badly he did not want to like them (he lost everyone he was close to. That was how Erik lived. He did not let himself like people when they were going to get hurt because of him). 

And every time he looked at Charles- 

Erik forced himself to think about something else, anything else, picking the most mundane thing he could think of to slow down his heart thudding in his chest. 

So he found himself in the kitchen at two in the morning with his head pressed against the fridge and his eyes squeezed shut as he desperately tried to slow his breathing, hoping his clothing would stop feeling so tight and uncomfortable and that everything would stop being so utterly overwhelming. 

Erik hated himself for falling in love with Charles. Not that he could control it, he couldn’t, but he didn’t like it. He knew what happened to men who liked men. He had seen it. He had seen the pink triangles, everyone in the camps marked as homosexuals and made to stand out. He had avoided them; had even let himself feel disgusted by them. 

And now he was one of them. At least, he was pretty sure that he was one of them. He had never given himself time to think about it. Not then, not now. Marrying Magda had been easy when she had made it so abundantly clear that she wanted him. It was easy enough to be overwhelmed by her. And he had certainly loved Anya- He had loved her more than he had ever loved anyone. 

Of course, he had lost both of them, just as he always did. 

As he’d left to go back on the hunt for Shaw, Erik swore off love. He was done with it. 

Erik hated Charles for making him question everything he knew. He absolutely hated those damned blue eyes that were so big and round and full of hope and those stupid red lips he very much wanted to kiss. 

As he continued to lean against the fridge, he vaguely wondered how much longer he could do it- how much longer he could sit in Charles’ study, drinking the other man’s brandy while playing chess and vehemently denying his feelings. 

Erik gave up on being upright and turned, pressing his back against the fridge and sliding to the ground, groaning softly in frustration the whole way. 

He definitely couldn’t handle another night of this. He had to do something. What did people do when they were romantically interested in other people? He couldn’t remember. 

Erik banged his head against the fridge in frustration. He couldn't afford to put down roots, couldn't let himself feel anything toward these people. He would ruin them. He had to leave. But he truly cared for Charles and even just the thought of the look on Charles' face when he found out he had been abandoned cut deeply. And Charles would most definitely think of it as abandonment. Perhaps there was a way Erik could soften the blow of his leaving. 

They could have dinner, just the two of them, and then somewhere in the middle Erik could interject with a quick “This is great and I’m having fun but I can’t let myself stay here and love you, so bye” and then disappear into the night. 

Erik was usually good at disappearing, at leaving without a trace, at not laying any roots in the first place. He couldn’t leave roots here. Something bad was bound to happen. It would be better for him to leave as soon as possible. 

A gift could work. He could make Charles a gift. It would soften the blow. If he made something and left it for Charles, maybe with a note, then he wouldn’t have to face the telepath. They hadn’t known each other long, but he was sure that Charles would try to help, to become even more involved, and Erik definitely couldn’t handle that. 

He started to straighten up, a plan already forming in his mind. He was in a kitchen, he could make Charles an omelette. 

Charles padded into the kitchen a moment later, yawning. 

“Erik?” Charles asked in confusion, voice husky with sleep. Erik froze with one hand on the door of the fridge, clutching a carton of eggs in the other. 

“Erik? What’s wrong?” Charles asked again, tilting his head curious and stepping a little closer. 

Erik shook his head a little and tried to brush past Charles, attempting to leave the kitchen. Charles put an arm out, stopping him. Erik froze at the sudden contact, Charles’ arm electric on his chest. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Charles,” He growled, stepping back. 

“You don’t have to hide everything away, Erik. You can tell me what’s on your mind.” Charles’ voice was so concerned, so open and welcoming that Erik hesitated. 

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, finally replying after a long moment of silence. Charles crossed his arms and leaned against the fridge, raising one eyebrow. 

“It is clearly not _nothing_ ,” Charles retorted. 

Erik growled and shook his head, leaning on the counter. After a long moment of trying to figure out what to say he shrugged. He didn’t have to justify Charles with a response. He was his own man. He said as much aloud. 

Charles rolled his eyes. Erik’s gut clenched in response. 

“Erik, tell me. You can tell me whatever you’re thinking, I promise it will be okay.” 

Erik shook his head again. He had everything to say but he couldn’t find a single way to express it. For a moment, he was torn between telling Charles what was on his mind, or, more preferably, running then and there. But the beseeching look in Charles’ eyes gave him pause. 

Erik sighed, growing desperate, and glanced around the kitchen for anything that would help him. Finding nothing, he looked back at Charles and opened and closed his mouth a few times. He exhaled, suddenly realizing that he’d never be able to say what he wanted to say out loud. 

Erik looked at Charles for a long moment. He knew Charles only wanted to help, and that he would do anything for Erik. That had already been proven in their first adventurous weeks together. Erik inhaled slowly through his nose, pressing his eyes shut. There was a clear solution, and though it wasn’t one he’d prefer right now, he knew that there was still a way he could share everything with Charles. 

Shaking more than he wanted to admit, Erik reached forward, grabbing one of Charles’ hands and bringing it up to his temple, pressing the telepath’s warm hands to his own clammy skin. 

Charles frowned, but obliged, slipping gently into Erik’s mind.Erik watched as Charles took everything in- his confusion, his longing, his disgust. The telepath gasped quietly and Erik pulled away, not wanting to see how Charles was reacting. 

“Oh, Erik,” Charles murmured. A wave of psychic affection washed over Erik and he was almost nauseated by it. Erik reeled back as if he had been attacked, throwing a hand over his face, visions of pink triangles marching across his memory. Charles stepped back. 

“Erik, I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want,” Charles rushed to reassure. Erik straightened, warily staring at Charles. 

“I want…” Erik started, trailing off when he couldn’t quite get the words out. “You,” He looked anywhere but at Charles, not wanting to see his reaction. Erik’s heart pounded in his chest with his guilty admission. 

“I want to be with you,” He rasped, forcing the words out and swallowing nervously. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead and he was suddenly cold with dread. The man probably hated him now for the way Erik felt about him. 

“I want to be with you too, Erik,” came Charles’ quiet murmur. Erik’s head snapped up and he glared at Charles disbelievingly. 

“You can’t just say that and mean it. There’s no way,” Erik accused. 

“I’m not,” Charles said, taking a hesitant step forward. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Erik.” 

“I’m not the mind-reader,” Erik replied, taking a deep breath. Charles stepped back, looking hurt. 

“Erik,” 

“Charles?” Erik kept his voice level, forcing calm into it. 

“Why would I want to hurt you?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Erik.” 

Silence stretched between them, injecting a long moment of awkwardness into the kitchen. 

“Can I kiss you?” Charles asked, looking worried. Erik furrowed his brow, hesitating before nodding once. 

“I think I’d like that,” Erik spoke slowly, hesitating as the weight of the truth sat on his tongue. 

Erik narrowed his eyes at Charles, who smiled and reached out one hand to cup Erik’s face. Charles brushed his lips across Erik’s and suddenly every nerve ending in his body was electric, lighting up, and Erik had never felt better. 

He pulled away, gasping. 

“Was that not what you wanted?” Charles bit his lip, worry melting across his face. Erik’s mouth opened and closed. He didn’t know what he wanted. 

“No, I liked it.” Erik sat down, leaning against a cabinet and closing his eyes. A soft hush of fabric against the wood grain behind him told him that Charles was sitting next to him. 

“What am I supposed to do then, Erik?” Charles sounded strained, as if he was struggling with something too. 

“I don’t know,” Erik groaned. He put his face in his hands. He hated feeling helpless, and yet here he was. “I never thought I was…” he let the sentence go unfinished. Charles would understand. “It’s not natural. Not okay.” 

“Who says it’s not okay?” Charles challenged. 

“Things. History. In the camps, they were there.” Erik circled back to the memories haunting him. But they were different, now he saw himself among them. 

“There was a woman on the fringe of your memories when you invited me into your mind,” Charles finally spoke, breaking a long silence between them. 

“Magda,” Erik confirmed. 

“You were married?” 

“We were.” 

“Where is she?” 

“Dead. Her and Anya.” Erik said quietly. He straightened, pushing his head against the solid cabinet, letting it support him. 

“Anya?” 

“My daughter.” 

Throughout their conversation, Erik’s eyes had remained closed. Now he opened one, looking out the corner of his vision to gauge Charles’ reaction. Charles hadn’t moved. The other man appeared to be completely motionless, staying calm as he took everything in. 

“What happened?” he finally asked. 

“Fire.” Erik didn’t elaborate. 

“I’m sorry.” Charles sounded like he truly meant it. Erik nodded once, accepting the condolences. 

Another silence stretched between them. 

“Did you love her?” Charles asked, breaking the silence again. 

“She loved me,” Erik replied. 

“That’s not what I asked you, Erik.” Charles turned his head, looking at Erik. 

“I don’t know.” Erik shook his head angrily. “I don’t know anything anymore. I just know that-” he shut up, slouching a little. 

“You know what?” Charles sounded concerned. 

“I know that I love you,” Erik whispered. “From the first second I heard your voice in my head, I was yours.” 

“Erik, I-” Charles started, only to be cut off by Erik. 

“I just want to stop feeling so wrong about it. I want to be happy that I love you. I want to love you without feeling guilty. And I want you to help me with that,” Erik finished. He bit his lip, surprised with how every word rang true once he spoke them aloud. This new revelation was going to make leaving even harder. 

“You mean it?” Charles asked. Erik looked at the other man. He looked so damn emotional. Erik didn’t get it. Why did Charles look like he was about to cry? 

“I do,” Erik murmured, leaning over gingerly to rest his head on Charles’ shoulder. 

“We’ll go slowly,” Charles promised. Erik nodded. 

Charles moved slightly, wrapping his arms around Erik and pulling him into a gentle hug. 

Erik allowed himself to relax into the hug. One hug wouldn’t undo years of thinking in a single night. But it could be a start.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
